Look Into the Eyes of What I Might Have Been
by Skye12
Summary: Frodo's POV Frodo comes face to face with the creature Gollum, but why does he not kill him? He sees something there and it frightens him. Prelude to "To Deserve Pity"
1. What I Might Have Been

A lot of the dialogue in here was taken straight from the book and some was my own added in to suit my own devises in my message to portray the likeness of Frodo and Gollum.  
  
Look Into the Eyes of What I Might Have Been:  
  
Frodo's POV Frodo comes face to face with the creature Gollum, but why does he not kill him? He sees something there and it frightens him. Prelude to "To Deserve Pity"  
  
It was a hard climb. Now we are at the feet of Emyn Muil but the going has not gotten much easier, much to mine and my companion's despair. But perhaps he have lost our pursuer for the moment being. But now another pursuer threatens my mind. I still cannot shake the cold feeling from my frozen blood. That shriek, that horrible, heartstopping, earsplitting, shrill shriek. We have heard it before but now in this barren, dusty land it makes my heart quail all the more. I feel a part of it now, ever since the- wound. That piercing icicle poisoning my shoulder, I am part of it now. But we may sleep easier tonight knowing we've lost that slithering snake, Gollum. We can do nothing about the wraiths but that miserable creature could be disposed of. If I should have the chance I'd kill the wretched-  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Yes, Samwise." I cannot help the tired agitation in my own voice.  
  
"There ain't no place for shelter, sir. Can't find naught a nook nor hollow."  
  
"Then we might as well rest here, Sam. We may be safe for the time being. Our little climb might have thrown Gollum off our trail."  
  
Sam hissed. I could tell his contempt for the creature was far greater than my own. "Maybe I should keep watch, sir. Just to make sure you're safe, meanin' he's a tricky one, I'll bet. I don't want no harm to come to you."  
  
I cannot stifle a shiver run down me. Gollum was not as far as we had thought. I could almost hear the light pad of his feet along the rocks, Sam doesn't seem to though. I drew my cloak closer around me, eager for the protection of Lorien. "No. You sleep a bit Sam and take my blanket. I'll walk up aand down on sentry for a while." I'd feel safer if I was keeping watch myself, somehow I do not think Sam can hear the creature as well as I, another effect of the wound. My left arm already feels numb with cold, a feeling I will probably have to get used to.  
  
There was a sound! Louder and closer now! Before I can think my body stiffens and I stoop next to Sam protectively. I grip his arm in warning, "What was that? Look over there on the cliff!"  
  
I hear Sam breath in sharply through his clenched teeth. "Ssss! That's what it is. It's that Gollum! Snakes and adders! And to think that I thought we'd puzzle him with our bit of a climb! Look at him! Like a nasty crawling spider on a wall."  
  
Indeed it was. At least I knew I wasn't all that crazy. Like a spider he crawled, nimbly down the sheer cliff bathed in the moonlight. His dark form moved fluidly, played on the cliff securely. I admired his skill in finding the small holds that no hobbit could detect. He crawled down on his sticky pads of feet and hands like some prowling insect-kind, my despise for him grew.  
  
He stopped and for a moment I thought he had seen us. I pulled Sam lower, who had moved to stand and reached for his sword. Brave fool, it would not be so easy as to stand up to his face, claim yourself to him, and slay him just so. We would need to be just as slick and cuning. Skills I had little practice at, but perhaps the element of surprise may give us the upper hand. If Gollum had such an acute sense of hearing as I he would surely detect us if we such as moved or breathed unsteadily.  
  
Gollum stopped and moved his head about on his scrawny neck, I could barely hear the light sniffing noises he made. I caught a glimpse of the two pale lights I had seen in Moria. His hallow eyes, so empty and forlorn. Quickly I shake the pity from me and clench my fists once more. He was hunting us. And just then I realized he wasn't listening for us, he could smell us.  
  
"Do you think he can see us?" Sam whispered.  
  
I made my voice even lower to portray that I wanted him to be as quiet as possible. "I don't know, but I think not. It is hard even for friendly eyes to see these elven-cloaks: I cannot see you in the shadow even at a few paces. And I've heard that he doesn't like Sun or Moon."  
  
"Then why is he coming down just here?"  
  
I grew agitated at Sam's overlyloud questioning. "Quietly Sam! He can smell us, perhaps. And he can hear as keen as Elves, I believe. I think he has heard something now: our voices probably. We did a lot of shouting away back there; and we were talking far too loudly until a minute ago."  
  
Sam did not quite get the hint. "Well, I"m sick of him. He's come once too often for me, and I'm going to have a word with him, if I can. I don't suppose we could give him the slip now anyway." He drew his grey hood over his face and crept stealthily towards the cliff. I was too dumbfouned to protest.  
  
"Careful! Don't alarm him! He's much more dangerous than he looks." Was all I could find to say.  
  
Gollum had made it but three-quarters of the way down and I can hear his snuffling more loudly now. He had come so far in hunting us. I can feel my hand straying to the chain around my neck, the cool, smooth metal of the trinket that dangled so helplessly on it. It wasn't his. It was mine now! I wouldn't let him take it from me! I try desperately to calm my racing mind. Voices whisper to me, voices I've gotten so accustomed to, their presence a numbing softness. They urge me to just slip the cool metal over my finger. I try to shake them away a pain shooting through me. My left arm goes cold and numb and I can feel my eyes glaze and burn. The voices were so numbing and soothing, without them, without the ring, I was hallow, frozen and burning at the same time. I inched back, cowering in the shadows. I cannot gain control over myself, my fingers lightly fondling the trinket around my neck as I back away. Sam shoots a worried look at me and I try to fight the urge to slip on the ring. My eyes wide. "We musn't risk out neck." A voice in my mind whispered. I thought it only sense, as I tried to urge Sam back. But my voice has left me now.  
  
We saw Gollum, still frozen and sniffing at the air. Then he turned, hissed something like a curse under his breath, and spit. He lifted his head, lolling it about his neck, he moved on again. Now we can hear his voice, creaking and hissing, a low whistle blow as air escaped through his teeth.  
  
"Ach, sss! Cautious, my precious!" I heard him hiss. I clenched me fists in hatred for the creature. But now would be a poor time to act. I held myself back. The voices slowly fading from my mind. "More haste less speed. We musstn't rissk our neck, musst we, precious?" I froze. Had I not just thought that? My mind was somewhat blurred, a veil pulled over it by the ring. I try to convince myself that I heard him say it before, but this was a failed attempt. He must read minds.  
  
"No, precious- gollum!" He stopped again. Now I was certain he saw us. But he lifted his head at the moon. He blinked and screwed his eyes shut. He cursed and hissed again, covering his eyes. "We hate it! Nassty, nassty shivery light it is- sss- it spies on us, precious- it hurts our eyes."  
  
I clenched my teeth, hating him all the more. Rage burning in my eyes, I could not tell if it was the ring's doing or my own that made me hate him so. It's mine, it is, the thief! Curse him! I hate him!  
  
"Where iss it, where iss it: my Precious, my Precious? It's ours, it is, and we wants is. The thieves, the thieves, the filthy little thieves. Where are they with my Precious? Curse them! We hates them."  
  
My eyes grew wide with fear. It was at the sound of Sam's voice that brought me back to reality. "It doesn't sound as if he knew we were here, does it? And what's his Precious? Does he mean the-"  
  
"Hsh!" I hiss angrily having little control over my own voice. "He's getting near now. Near enough to hear a whisper."  
  
Gollum stopped abruptly. Lifting his head and sniffing. His pale eyes gleamed. He was so near. I felt my hand fall to my chest, over the ring, protectively. Sam's hatred and disgust for the creature was evident. He tried to restrain himself, his fingers twitching, his eyes fixed on the wretched creature as they burned with disgust.  
  
Gollum began to move again now just a few feet above our heads and he seemed stuck. The cliff dove in slightly and was undercut. With a wretched shiek he fell, curling his legs and arms to his chest. Sam took this oportunity to leap on the creature. It seemed as good as any other, we had the element of surprise and Gollum's momentary immobility. Sam threw himself on Gollum and I was quite impressed and somwhat horrified at Sam's show of violent hate. I always thought of him as a quiet, timid hobbit who loved just about everything and could not quite understand the meaning of hate. I was wrong.  
  
I was also wrong with Sam having the upper hand. In a flash Gollum wound his long arms and legs around Sam and pinned him to the ground. Once again I was dumbstruck. Gollum was horribly strong and quick. I saw his clammy fingers reaching for Sam's neck and his sharp teeth sink into Sam's shoulder. With that my rage burst. As quickly as I could bring myself to wits I leapt out and unsheathed Sting. I pulled Gollum's head back by his stragly hair so that he stared right at the moon and put Sting's cold metal to his neck. "Let go!" My voice stronger and clearer than ever before. "This is Sting. YOu have seen it before once upon a time. Let go, or you'll feel it this time! I'll cut your throat!"  
  
Gollum cumpled in a heap and Sam struggled to his feet rubbing his shoulder. His eyes blazed with anger. My own anger surpassing any of my attempts to quench it. I swung my foot out and kicked the wretched heap that cowered before me. My own eyes a fire, one hand gripping Sting the other lain on my chest just where the ring stay hidden. Gollum went reeling and was thrown against the cliff.  
  
"Don't hurt us! Don't let them hurt us, precious!" Gollum pleaded. I sneered, he was so pathetic. But he wanted it. He would take it! And it was mine! I kicked the beast once more, not able to control my own actions and anger.  
  
Sam's own anger turned quickly to fright as he watched me. I must say I was frightened myself as I beat the miserable creatured. Sobs welled up in his gobbling throat and I could not control my actions. He wanted it! He'd take it! It was mine! I held out Sting and put it right to his neck, feeling its power rush through me the voices now shouted in my mind blurring out all of Sam's cries for me to cease this madness. I was eye to eye with the creature now. Those two pale lits, fear was behind them now. And something else.  
  
Perhaps it was the ring, or my own madness, but Gollum dissipated right infront of me. As if the wretched creature was just old tattered rags draped over some other creature. The two pale eyes turned quickly into round blue ones, brimming with tears, lit with fear and confusion. His long stragly hair were just wisps of mist and as the rags of the ancient creature fell I saw someone else. Dark curls and large frightened blue eyes. His skin was pale bathed in moonlight. He was small. Oh so small and frightened, his hand gripping desperately to something on his chest.  
  
My own eyes widened with fear. I was looking right at myself! A complete mirror image of me cowered before me, frightened and confused. Just wanting to go back to his old life, live in piece with his friends and family, in his peaceful land that he loved and missed and feared would never see again.  
  
It was then that I collapsed. Sting dropped from my grasp and my whole body caved. I felt arms around me and was looking up into Sam's fearful eyes. Gollum stood before me, once again Gollum, but still frightened and pitiful. All became hazy and then black. I heard Sam's voice echoing in my mind and no more.  
  
Later I always looked back on that day. The day I realized just what I might have been if I didn't have Sam. If I had killed him, my most loyal and devoted friend, as Smeagol had done to his own. I realized just what Sam and I had, how it helped me overcome the ring's call for so very long. That one last grip of sanity I had with me. Ever and anon had I looked at Gollum I would sigh and a cry would well up inside me. This was me. If I had killed Sam it is what I would have become. And this is why I pity Smeagol so. If he hadn't killed Deagol, what would have become of him? 


	2. What I Could Have Had

Chapter 2: What I Could Have Had  
  
I've taken some well heeded and much needed advice and decided to try and keep this in my own verse. I'd rather not bore you all ^^ and I am glad for the constructive criticism. So I'll try and put this my own way a little new so that you aren't experiencing much dejahvou (sp? I don't think anyone knows how to spell that but you know what I mean) I've often been told my writing is much like Tolkien's style and I tell you it is non-intentional ::blushes:: but I take it as the greatest compliment any writer could recieve. This small piece will be quite different though, keep in mind it is in Gollum's POV so the vocabulary and grammar will be somewhat lacking and descriptions somewhat vague. This is not my blunt style of writing but more Gollums lacking viewpoints. I hope the message and emotion gets across. Well thank you all and enjoy.  
  
Now in Gollum's POV a little later in the tale, before his treachery and after they leave Faramir's safety.  
  
  
  
"I must rest, Sam. I- I can't move another step."  
  
It was a tired voice, it was.  
  
"It's so heavy, Sam, so heavy."  
  
"Then we will rest, Mr. Frodo."  
  
That voice was kind. So kind and devoted to master.  
  
"Aye! Mr. Frodo needs rest! We will stop here!"  
  
Ack! No more kind, nice hobbit. Wicked hobbit Sam. So nasty to us. We are tired too, nasty Sam-hobbit doesn't care when poor gollum, Smeagol, tired. Why must obey cruel Sam-hobbit? Sam-hobbit not master, no. But must stay with master, made a promise, we did. Yes, yes we promise master of the precious. We keep promise.  
  
But there is her. Yes, she will help us, get precious back.  
  
No, promised master, nice hobbitses. Save us from cruel, nasty men, master did.  
  
But he trickses. He'll tricks us again. And cruel, wicked, Sam-hobbit, so nasty cruel to us.  
  
No! Sss! Put my hands on my ears. Then I can't hear cruel voices. Nasty voices won't leave Smeagol alone. Nasty, nasty voices. Arguing in our head it is. Stop, voices, don't want voices. Voices told me to kill him, yes they did. Shouldn't listen to voices, no. I cry. Oh my love, my friend, we killed him, we did! Nasty voices told me to, and we did.  
  
"What are you blubbering about?"  
  
Sam-hobbit being nice? Be nice to us? No. "Sss!" Sam-hobbit laugh at us. Makes fun of us he does.  
  
He looks sorry now. Looks sorry? Before looked nasty, cruel, now nice. Nice hobbitses, nice like Deagol. Deagol was nice.  
  
"You are crying again? I'm sorry."  
  
Words sound forced. Not really sorry.  
  
"Eh-erm. I'm sorry, Smeagol. I've never seen you cry. I can't say I like you, not even now. But you just looked so sad over there, and I-"  
  
"Sss! Says sorry! Then says doesn't like us! Cruel nassty hobbit game! Iss nice to poor Smeagol, then kicks us he does."  
  
Sam hobbit frowns. Nasty hobbit.  
  
"I never kicked you! I'm just askin'."  
  
"Acksss! Why should we tell you, nassty hobbit just laugh at us, he does."  
  
Sam-hobbit looks sad again, he does. Smeagol must be crying again. But we can't stop crying, oh no, poor Smeagol! We killed him, we did! Now we are alone, all alone. Wretched precious! It made us kill him. Oh, oh poor Smeagol. We can't stop crying, making Sam-hobbit laugh at us. Nasty, wicked, Sam-hobbit. Deagol would not laugh at us, no. Deagol would sit next to us like he did, put arm around us, pull tight, nice comforting Deagol. He'd say it'd be ok, he would. He'd stop Smeagol crying.  
  
Why is Sam-hobbit not laughing? He pities us, he does. But Sam-hobbit cruel, wicked. He jumps on us he did. Like cats on poor mices, he did. But now Sam-hobbit nice? Don't trust him. Trust master. Where's master?  
  
Oh, master sleeps. Nice master, nice hobbitses. Poor poor master, precious is heavy it is. Smeagol knows. But no! We leave master, he sleeps now. We sit here, alone. We have no friend. No Deagol. Sam-hobbit sits with master. He stays awake, sits with master, arm around shoulders. Deagol would put arm around Smeagol he would.  
  
No, now he wouldn't. Smeagol does not deserve nice Deagol friend any more. Deagol was kind. Gives us nice birthday present he did. Oh Deagol! We are sorry. We are wretched. It was precious, precious made us do it. How I hate it! And I need it! I need it now!  
  
No! Nice hobbitses sleep now. We stay away from nice hobbitses. Smeagol and Deagol, hobbitses. Poor poor master. He's being crushed under heavy precious. Smeagol knows. Smeagol was crushed under precious. But Deagol- hobbit, Sam-hobbit, holds him now. Puts hands in hands, stops shaking. Master shaking. Master muttering, talks in sleep he does, talks about dark, shadow, fire. Smeagol all knows. Smeagol knows.  
  
Nice, Sam-hobbit. Want to go sit with them. Be safe. Nice Sam, nice Deagol. Shaking, shivering, cold. We are cold. Hobbits sit together, nice hobbitses. Together, not alone. Smeagol alone. Smeagol made himself alone. It is Smeagol's fault! Oh, Deagol, we are sorry!  
  
Thirsty, we are. Sam-hobbit gives nice master water. Nice master too weak, can't move. Poor master. Has Sam-hobbit to look after him. Smeagol has no one. No one looks after Smeagol.  
  
"Thank you, Sam."  
  
Master speaks. He smiles at Sam-hobbit. Deagol would have helped us. He would give us drink, nice cool water, when Smeagol is thirsty. Deagol always there. But not now, it is Smeagol's fault.  
  
"What would I do without you, Sam." Master smiles.  
  
I tell you, master. I tell you what you would do without your Deagol- hobbit. Nice friend. I tell you. You become like us. You become gollum. All alone. Alone, wretched, pitiful. We are without our Deagol. All alone. Nice hobbitses have eachother. Nice master has Sam-hobbit to look after him. Nice Sam-hobbit. We are scared. We are alone.  
  
You are not alone, Smeagol dear. You are sorry. It is alright. Deagol is not mad at you, I'd never be mad at you, Smeagol. It wasn't your fault. Always with you, Smeagol, as long as you think of me. I forgive you.  
  
No, voices in head again. But Deagol? Deagol voice?  
  
"Here, you thirsty?"  
  
"Deagol?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"No you not, Deagol. Go away Sam-hobbit."  
  
"Fine I was just coming to bring you some water. But if you're going to be snippy-"  
  
"You bring water for us?"  
  
"Yes, I thought you'd be thirsty."  
  
Sam-hobbit being nice? Be nice like Deagol. Deagol?  
  
"Yess, we are thirsty."  
  
Thank you, Deagol. 


	3. Nightmares of What Might Be

Chapter 3: Nightmares of what Might Be  
  
Okay here is an attempt to satisfy my readers and add more to this story. Mind you I wrote this at 1 a.m. after I woke up from a terrible dream (warning: this may be dark and morbid). I thought it would suit nicely. I write one for Gollum too. But here we are once again in Frodo's POV where I feel more free to write and express cuz it's hard to write Gollum's thoughts so that they make sense! This chapter alone may be rated PG-13 for the graphic scenes but once again no slash, language, or sexuality, just kinda dark and scary. I had a really bad dream ::shivers:: Alright I'll shut up.  
  
  
  
I am alone. I'm walking through these hollow lands. Where am I? This is the shire, but empty, somehow. I feel so alone, what has become of everyone. Has my quest failed? Has it all been in vain? Surely there would be something. But no, and now I wander about these lands that look so much like my home, but they are just an empty shell my home. The sunlight is cold upon my wretched skin. All warmth is lost on me. The coldness only brings home to me the feeling of utter lost loneliness. They have all left me. All of them. Am I the only one left?  
  
The wind whorls and trees sway about me. Everything is like some ghost from a long forgotten past. No true shapes can be made out. My most beloved land is lost on me now. There is no life here now. No sounds touch me ears. The silent deafness of the world pains me, I am not worthy of hearing. A bitter disgust fills me. The feeling that I have done some terrible deed eats away at my mind. What have I done to deserve this wretched torture! My voice is swallowed by this hollow void.  
  
Why have they all abandoned me? What have I done? Sam. Where are you! My voice is so mindless and wretched. As the words escape my lips they form sounds as my mind had not intended. So tainted with the bitter sound of guilty pain as the sounds faded into nothingness about me. Words fell dead at my lips and the wind filled me, only letting me know how incredibly empty and soulless I truly am. Inside me I feel a failing light, flicker and die, and an icy emptiness reside inside my hollow shell.  
  
Before me the road stretches endlessly. There is something in the distance, growing, a vast, dark shadow heaved over the lands. I was frozen. My eyes wide with fear, reflecting pain and emptiness. My mind could not come to understand, why would any creature deserve such lone suffering. What have I done?  
  
The dark shadow took form of a barren wasteland of dust and choked smoke that blotted out the sun. I cowered in remembrance. I have been here. The land, seeming so far away, drew closer now. The road shrunk before me, pulling forward it dragged the land, engulfing everything in its path. It was growing, darkness and shadow eating up the sun and trees. But all was dark and cold in my mind. When the land was upon me it swallowed me, wrapped around me, strangled me. My mind cried out, I wanted to turn and run, find a land of safety where the warmth of a familiar touch would comfort me. But such a feeling was remote, as if it had never been mine to bask in. The warm, comforting touch of a friend to bring me back to sanity and hold me to life. Now I was alive yet dead inside.  
  
The blackness of Mordor surrounded me, a rain of ash engulfed me, choking out pure air. Smoke billowed above me turning the cold gaze of the sun blood red and soon dark, like a shadow. I wrung my hands like some wretched creature and when I looked down at my boney hands, they were covered in blood. I let out a shrill shriek which was devoured by that land and magnified one thousand times, and this was the sound aloud to pain my worthless ears. It echoed again and again and I cried out, my wretched voice ringing in the lands, like some frozen shrill ending on a high note then echoing darkly in some remote place. I put my hands to my ears but an even more wicked sound came to them, the voice of my own mind, hissing and crying out. The last light inside of me was flickering, the last piece of sanity that was aloud to live so that I may experience this torture in its entirety.  
  
I reeled and the dark lands about me swirled and blended. I fell to my knees, grovelling for some salvation. My voice was gone again, the silence worse than the earsplitting sound of my cries. My hands still stained as I tried insanely to wipe them clean. I crumpled into a worthless heap and my dark form was wracked by sobbing.  
  
It was then that in the deepest, darkest moment of my despair that the world decided to stop reeling around me. I looked up as the land melted away. It fell from me and there was nothing left but darkness. Alone in the darkness, left with only a shred of my mind. I opened my eyes and before me was a familiar shape. A form laying in a calm heap, still and peaceful. My hands trembled as I turned the figure over. Quickly I drew my hands close around me, wringing them all the more, and holding them tight to me. I shrieked once more and my screams tormented my ears but it barely phased me. My own screams were considered no torchure to my ears in comparison to what my eyes saw.  
  
Before me lay the body of my dear, most devoted friend, Samwise. His comforting brown eyes now frozen in a state of horror, staring unseeingly up into the darkness. His face contorted in his last moments of horrifying pain, his hands gripping something driven into his heart. It was a sword. Sting! His body was empty, but not like mine. Inside my body resided the dark coldness of wretched despair. All that was left of my dear, loyal Samwise was this broken form staring into the eyes of his murderer. I saw myself reflected in the frozen pools of his glazed eyes. I shook my head in terror. This could not be! But my hands! My hands stained! With his blood! What have I done? Sam! I did not touch him again, I could not. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, wallowing in my own wretchedness, as I sat by the side of my friend's motionless body. I can no longer live with myself. Why? I would never do this.  
  
It was then that I looked up and in Sam's outstretched hand was a small, golden trinket. A golden ring shone, bright and glittering in his palm. But it did not matter. Somehow, nothing mattered. The ring was worthless, now, it meant nothing. It held no power for me. It was just a simple ring. And my most treasured gift, my friendship with Sam, was gone.  
  
I put my hand around Sting's hilt. How could I live like this? I should suffer the same fate for what I have done. I crawled on my hands and knees, my back hunched. I felt like some dark, lost creature. I could look no more into the face of the one I had betrayed. I was the most wicked creature to crawl on the earth. I let go of Sting's hilt and crumbled into a miserable heap on the ground once more. No, not such a simple escape for me.  
  
I should climb into a cave and suffer for hundreds of years without the warmth of sunlight, the comforting touch of a friend, the sparkle of the stars. I should take the ring as a forever remembrance of the terrible deed I had done. Just a dark miserable creature in the deep places of the world with his precious to consume what was left of his mind.  
  
As I reached out a hand to take the ring I was aware of a sound. A sound that would define torment in such a situation. Sam was dead, yet I could still hear him. I put my hands to my ears and cried out but now the only sound was Sam's voice. 'It torments us it does!' Was the thought ringing in my head but still I heard that sweet, gentle voice coaxing me back to reality.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
I can't. What will I be without you? What will I do? I can't.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, wake up."  
  
No, Sam. I'm sorry. I couldn't have. Yet, somehow- I did!  
  
"Mr. Frodo? It's time to be waking up, sir. We've got a long ways ahead of us."  
  
Sam? It can't be. But I-  
  
"Mr. Frodo! You need to wake up."  
  
The darkness falls around me leaving me cold and shaken. I must have woken with a scream and jumped up for the next thing I knew I was very dizzy and Sam seemed very dumbstruck. But it was Sam! And he was alive! It took everything I had not to rush to him and embrace him, so much that I fell to my knees trembling and crying.  
  
The next thing I knew was what I had wished for all along. The one thing that I needed to keep me sane. I felt Sam's arms around me, the comforting touch of a friend. I breathed in heavy sobs but did not tell him what I dreamt of. I couldn't. It was too horrible to ever utter again.  
  
When I looked up I saw Gollum watching me from a distance. A cold sadness filled his eyes and I felt a cry well up inside of me. He wrung his hands like a miserable creature and muttered to himself. He looked so pitiful there I couldn't understand why any creature would be forced to live such torment. It was all too much for me to bear. But walking side by side with Sam kept me alive and held me to my quest. I won't let the ring control me. I will never betray you, Sam... at least... I hope not. 


End file.
